Revenez à Bruxelles

Warm Waffle at Antwerpen Centraal.




Doner with frites at Brussels Nord.




Racing back to the Novotel.

The Delights of Antwerp

The Red Light District.

Legal sex and brothels don't really exist in the United States. Yes, Nevada has their chicken ranches but no one seems to do the Sex Trade quite like the Europeans. I heard that Antwerp had a Red Light District (RLD) similar to Amsterdam and since dinner at inVINcible was a bust, I might as well see what else Antwerp had to offer

The RLD here is much smaller than Amsterdam but the selection of women is quite good. Girls of all sizes and types are on offer to suit your needs and tastes. Transexuals are even on offer to suit those of you who prefer a little something extra...

Like Amsterdam, the girls stand in glass doorways in bikinis or lingerie enticing you to purchase their wares. Police presence is heavy so it's unwise to do anything criminal.

If you're interested, simply walk up to the girl of your choice and start negotiating. From what I can tell, just about everything is on offer. Sex, oral sex, perversions, whatever your desires, there's someone here that will accommodate you.

I talked to a couple of the girls to see the going rate. €50 will get you basic sex and it goes up from there. Fifty euros sounds like a lot and I don't even have that much in my pocket. I ask one girl if she'll take a credit card - as she closes the door on me.

So much for partaking in the delights of Antwerp.

Visions of Antwerp

Antwerp Recycles!




The Runaway Tourist.




Meter Maids Make Money For Government.

Invincible Frites

Groenplaats.

I work my way northwest from the Central Station to Groenplaats then walk several blocks in search of Restuarant InVINcible to visit Kenny and try some of his food. This is old part of the city and the streets are small but easy to navigate.

Maybe this is indicative of Belgium as a whole but this city seems very cosmopolitan, meaning that people speak all sorts of languages here. Everywhere I go, I'm hearing languages that I'm not familiar with. Supposedly, Belgium is a French-speaking country, but I'm almost certain that I'm hearing and reading a lot of German as well.


Boulangerie Paul

Where one moment, I think it might be appropriate to say "Bounjour", I'm greeted with "Guten tag." Not to mention these other Danish dialects. It's kinda confusing and I'm not sure what to say anymore and revert to the relatively safe "Hello" or the more Continental "Hallo".

The city is confoundingly familiar (the boulangeries) while being unfamiliar (everything else).


Restaurant InVINcible: So close, yet so far.

Finally, I make it to the restaurant. It's about 6pm. The place is empty. I find Kenny. He looks at me quizzically. "Rouki sent me," I tell him. "Are you open?"

What I've not considered is that the Belgians are like the French, the restaurants don't open until 7pm. And what is currently an empty and deserted restaurant will fill with hungry diners in about an hour.

Sometimes I visit restaurants early in the hopes of dropping in, grabbing a quick meal and getting out before their first full seating hits the tables. That way I eat without a reservation, they get another turn (and more cash) and I get to try yet another known restaurant.

Kenny is the current Barista Champion of Belgium and I'm hoping that my name dropping would swing me a place to sit. Feed me for 30 minutes and I'll be out of your way. Maybe I should drop my name and tell him where I'm from? I decide against it. It's really not my style to name drop and push.

It's obvious that Kenny, while being friendly and polite, isn't interested in accommodating me this evening. The book is full and that's that. I respect can respect that and ask for alternative recommendations. He recommends another restaurant his friend owns. Sounds interesting but I really came to meet Kenny and see how a barista envisions a restaurant and since that's not going to happen, I don't care to eat fancy tonight. How about frites?



Inside Frituur No. 1

Kenny tells me the best frites in Antwerp are just around the corner at a place called "number one". Number One? Yes, Number One. Just turn left.

Belgian Frites. I've been wondering what the hoopla is all about as I've heard so many good things about frites here. Back in June, when Ana and I were transferring at Brussels Midi from the EuroStar to the Thalys, I thought about jaunting off to Maison Antoine for a round of frites, but as we had too many bags to lug across the city and I'm relatively sure Ana would be rather upset if I left her at the train station with our bags while I went off to Antoine, I ended up never having tried Belgian Frites. Until now.


Belgian Frites with Mayonnaise. Massive.

Proper Belgian Frites are double fried, tossed with salt, scooped into a paper tub or tube and then topped with the sauce of your choice.

To be honest, I'm not a fries and sauce kind of guy. Give it to me perfectly fried and delicately seasoned with salt and I'm very, very happy. Frituur No. 1 is serious about their frites. The girls work it in huge deep vat fryers. The oil boils angrily and I'm excited. She asks about my choice of sauce. I tell her mayonnaise since it's traditional here. She prepares my order and hands me the tub.

It's insane. The frites are piled high and this thing is massive. It's obviously too much for one person. My doctor said I should lower my Triglycerides - this is not the proper path. I'm aghast. But I was once a Boy Scout and I'm going to giving that old scout try!


I could go no more.

Really, it's too much. One person should not consume one entire order. I can't do it. Maybe once upon a time, I could tear it up but no more. I'm an amateur. The mayo is seriously thick and rich and very unlike any mayo I've had before. Problem is: it's still mayo and I think that's gross. I'm not a mayo on my fries kind of guy. Give it to me plain.

So how was it? Were these the best frites in Antwerp? Maybe. Probably. They were very good. But were they amongst "the best" fries in the world?

The French, the Francophiles and the Belgians are probably going to hate me for this, but I'm starting to think that I just don't like their fries. Yes, they're double-fried but they're not crisp on the outside. They're close but I want a definitive snap. I wonder what temperatures they use for frying here but I've yet to have a frite in Europe that was better than what I can get back in the United States.

There. I've said it. Call me a heretic. But I still think the gold standard in American fries is Les Halles Park Avenue in New York City. I ate there in September and their fries reaffirmed my stance. Better than Le Severo in Paris. Yes, Better. Sorry.

On To Antwerpen

Departing Brussels Airport.

Of course I spent my day in Brussels by going to Antwerpen.

But that wasn't until I finally convinced myself to climb out of bed and get cracking. Afterall, it was nearly two in the afternoon!

The problem with travel is this jet lag. I'm tired and just want to sleep, but if I sleep all day then I won't sleep at night, which compounds problems later. The gamble is that I will sleep on the ten hour flight to Africa, but it's very difficult for me to sleep on a plane and that could easily translate into 48 hours without sleeping. Not good.

In reality, the options are at my feet. I've got eighteen hours to do whatever I please. I could go to Paris. Or find Brussels best frites. Or their best moules. Or maybe speak at the European Union Headquarters. Whatever I desire lies at my feet.

Therefore, I'm off to Antwerpen where Rouki has urged me to visit Kenny, the Belgian Barista Champion who owns a restaurant wine bar there. I'm game to try good food and see how a barista has envisioned a restaurant, so I'm off to the train stations and the commute north.



The Europe of My Mind's Eye.

As the train cruises through north Brussels, I see the Europe of my mind's eye. This is the Europe I imagined in 1987. Worn, tired, overcast and grey. This part of the city looks drab and dreary. This is how I imagined Europe during the Cold War. There is no sun. Just the even grey of overcast clouds. It's dour but not quite depressing. I regret not visiting Europe during high school to compare that world to our world today.


Waiting at Brussels Noord station.

e travel to Antwerpen is relatively easy. This is train travel of Europeans. €9,40 takes you all the way from Brussels Airport to Antwerpen, with a train transfer at Brussels Noord. About fifteen minutes from Antwerpen, I'm busted for sitting in the wrong train car. Turns out I'm sitting in the plush comfort of First Class when all I have is a lowly Second Class ticket. The conductor could charge me more but decides to let me move to the proper car. I had no idea.


Antwerp Centraal Station.

Hello Novotel!

The Novotel Hotel welcomes my derriere.

I'm taking a brief respite on the way to Europe in Brussels. Instead of doing the ten hour marathon to Kampala immediately after the seven hour hop from Dulles, it's better to rest a bit in Europe for a day, decompress, readjust and then continue on in the morning.

Overnight flights are always brutal, regardless of class of service. Departing Dulles at 6pm, we arrive in Brussels around midnight East Coast USA time. On normal days, I'm not even in bed by midnight so trying to sleep at what is essentially 8pm is futile exercise.


Nhu Lam Bahn Mi from Virginia.

Happily, the Novotel is used to guests leaving early and, more importantly, arriving early as they had my room ready when I arrived at 9am. Merci beaucoup!

The room is nice. Nothing spectacular, nothing overly luxurious - just completely functional, clean and comfortable. Perfect for an overnight jaunt. I hit the bed and sleep until 1pm when I start to evaluate just what I want to do with my remaining time in Europe.

Bienvenue a Brussels!

Female Belgian Police officer who reminds me of Rouki.

UA 950

Business Class, 11B. Same old, same old.




Warm, roasted nuts and apple juice.




Vegetarian Spring Roll with Ginger Soy Sauce - filled with mint herb, fresh cilantro, carrots, red onion, English cucumber and noodles, with Fresh Seasonal Greens and classic caesar dressing and a roll.




Braised Beef Short Rib with Red Wine Demi-Glace - potato pancakes and oven roasted root vegetable.s




Strawberry Ice Cream with Hot Black Tea.




Everyone sleeps in Business Class. Except me.

Chessmen, Yes!

Chessmen cookies at the IAD Red Carpet Club. I haven't had Chessmen cookies in years. I'm thinking about swiping a bunch of them, but they'll probably only break in my bag leaving me with a mess.

For now, just a couple of Chessmen for the memories and then onwards to Brussels.

Not Barred This Time

My Balls Are Disappointed

IAD With The Tallest Man In The World

Preflight: Xe Lua

The Essentials

Once again, it's time to fly and that means it's time to pack. Packing is always a challenge and I thought this time I would share some of the essential things that I take with me. Most of the items I normally bring with me, others are tailored specifically for this trip.

I'll start in the darkest corner to the left that's hardest to see:
- 1 pair Hawaiian Island Creation board shorts (for hotel swimming pools)
- 1 pair "Locals Only" slippahs for casual hanging out
- 3 sets of underwear
- 1 pair Russell athletic shorts
- 1 pair Levis blue jeans
- 1 pair khaki trousers
- 1 pair black trousers
- 4 button down dress shirts
- 3 ties (no yacht club tie this time)
- 1 pair Ecco dress shoes
- 3 pairs white athletic socks
- 3 pairs black dress socks
- 1 Panavision cap
- Canon XT DSLR with 22-105mm lens
- Gorilla Grip tripod
- Canon battery chargers
- Assorted European power adapters
- Extra memory cards
- DEET Spray and Bug Repellant
- Medical Kit to cure various ailments
- Bounce fabric softener (for bug repellency)
- Apple VGA adaptor for MacBook Pro
- iHome DC/AC converter with airplane jack
- Cat5 cable
- Parillo protein chew bar
- iPhone 4GB
- London based European GSM phone
- iPod 180GB
- Assorted cables and adapters
- Emergency Montecristo Cigar
- Earbud headphones
- Assorted Paperwork (CQI/WBC/WHO reading)
- 1 worn Louis Vuitton wallet (for looking fancy)
- Dollars and Euros
- MacLeans toothpaste
- United Airlines travel toothbrush
- disposable razors
- nail clippers
- sewing kit
- Q-tips
- Barbasol travel can
- Advil & Loratadine
- Lady Gaga Ticket (to be fabulous)
- International Driving Permit (for visiting Ferrari)
- Immunization Card
- Passport
- Press Pass (just in case)
- Sixt Card (for rentals)
- MacBook Pro

Time to put it all in a case and hit the road!

Cherry Cherry Boom Boom

Packages from Italy. Grazie!

Buying tickets in a venue you've never been to is a challenging proposition. Sure, the tickets are amongst the most expensive in the house, but just how far is that end section with the full frontal stage view from the actual stage? Especially when there are seats to the sides that are the same price? And you don't have enough command of Italian to really understand if that section you think you're buying is actually the section you are paying for.

Then comes the decision: pickup the tickets at the box office or have it delivered for a fee? Picking it up in a foreign country means that I don't risk losing it. It also means I have to bring along the credit card I used to pay for the ticket, which means risking running up another balance while traveling. Either way, it costs. Perhaps it's cheaper to have it delivered.

With the clock running down on my time at home, I started to wonder when the tickets would arrive. The website didn't specify how they would be sent so I was hoping that they would be sent rather quickly. Otherwise, the ticket arrives after I leave and I spend more money having it FedEx'd to me in Europe. Again, more money.


Lady Gaga - even the ticket is fashionable in golden yellow.

When I arrived home this afternoon, the bright yellow DHL envelope was there to greet me. Inside was the ticket I had been waiting for. After gazing at it with admiration (this is the first concert ticket I've purchased in years, afterall), I carefully placed it in my wallet with my passport and immunization card to make sure that it would make it with me to Europe.

Now, with ticket in hand, I will be in Milan on Sunday, December 5th for The Monster Ball Tour of Lady GaGa.

If anyone else is in town, give me a call!

Fondle My Balls, Please.

Do we really need xrays to find what metal detectors are designed for?

"When the TSA was established, it was never envisioned that it would become a huge, unwieldy bureaucracy which was soon to grow to 67,000 employees." "As TSA has grown larger, more impersonal, and administratively top-heavy, I believe it is important that airports across the country consider utilizing the opt-out provision provided by law."
- Representative John Mica, republican

Not long after 9/11, along with the so-called USAPATRIOT Act that started the grand erosion of our civil rights, the government (read: our politicians) decided that they would federalize all of those hapless airport security agents into a big, government bureaucracy. How in the world that anyone of salient being in 2001-2002 could not see the Transportation Security Agency growing into the train wreck that it is today is beyond me.

Even then, the most obtuse amongst us could see a new bureaucracy being formed - how this was good for anyone is anyone's guess.

Nearly ten years later, the TSA is a growing monster filled with long lines, poor customer service and now you get someone to fondle your balls before flying. Never mind the uselessness of taking off your shoes or pulling your laptop out of the bag. Forget the stupidity of dumping 5 ounces of water or a small tub of soft cheese (yes, that happened to me at ORD - guess Illinois doesn't like Wisconsin). Now the government is telling us that we should agree to undergo X-ray screening so that they can see the size of my balls and how it relates to my dick.

Or that girls' vagina.

The TSA administrators assures us that they have "security measures" to "protect our privacy." I'm sorry, but you're the last people I expect to protect my privacy - especially after you've spent the last nine years invading it. Of course, they want us to believe that those TSA people in Florida weren't passing around x-ray images and talking about the size of people's junk. In addition, they want us to believe that those images will be deleted immediately after use. Of course if you believe that, then I wear size 28 pants!


This is more likely.

Perhaps the only way to force the issue is to make it painful all the way around. I can't imagine the TSA people really want to fondle balls (mine or anyone else's), so maybe the best way to get the TSA to cease and desist is to have everyone opt out of the xray scanner and go for the pat down. The lines then become horrifically long, the TSA agents have a lot of balls to handle and it all goes to the crapper (maybe even literally).

All I know is that when I take off later this week for points beyond, I plan on bypassing the xray screening and asking them to touch my balls. Afterall, what's the point in looking at them if they're not going to be handled?

The Neil

Christian, Alex, Gerry and Neil at Spro.

The Neil is in town from Honolulu for 48 hours. The Neil is a doctor who is an Evidence Specialist for the Scientific Investigation Section's Crime Unit of the Honolulu Police Department. He's the real world CSI for Hawaii Five-O.

Of course, crime in Honolulu is anything but the automatic weapons fire, murders and kidnappings depicted in the television series. Watch Hawaii Five-O and you'd think Honoululu was the Wild West. They hardly deal with anything like that because life in Hawaii is much more relaxed and enjoyable. But what he tells me they do deal with is surprising. Tourist jumpers who have come to the islands to end it all and sexual assaults in Waikiki top the list of things the Crime Scene Unit deals with on a regular basis.


The El Mexi-Can, Mexican style hot chocolate.

The Neil is in town for some meetings or another. Could be field-related or it could be something else - the details are sparse. Whatever the case, we're old college friends and our tribe has gathered to celebrate his visit with coffee in the morning at Spro, brunch at Woodberry Kitchen, a little shopping and then proper Maryland Crabs and Filipino Pork and Chicken Adobo for dinner, capped off with some bourbon and cigars.

In the morning, The Neil jets back to Honolulu just in time for the 7pm watch with HPD.


Breakfast Pizza, er, Flatbread.




Roasted Oysters




The Winklers ponder a Ricotta Pancake.




James drops dishes for Tilly and Gerry.




Molly's Breakfast Sandwich




Burger on an English Muffin.




Fries and the Roasted Tenderloin Sandwich.




A closer look at the roasted tenderloin.




Christine, Sophie and Neil.




Steamed Crabs, Adobo, Corn and Rice. Real Eating.




Tilly and Neil ponder the excesses of a day of eating.

Taming The Shrewsbury

Holding Court - Tony teaches Cannoli.

Ask the potentially thousands of commuters if Shrewsbury is "that far" from Baltimore and they'll tell you: "it's not too bad."

Well, I'll tell you: It is that bad.

Okay, perhaps not bad like driving the DC Beltway or attempting a leisurely drive up the 405 Freeway at 5:15pm, but it's no picnic either. And it's far away.

We're up in Shrewsbury tonight for Tony's annual bonfire party. A gathering of friends, food and fire. Kids and adults and parents.

A nice time with a big fire, cigars and drinks.


"I crush you!!!!"




Now that's a fire!